


inktober but its writing 2019

by bestGuesses



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Angelic Grace as Lube (Supernatural), Bathroom Sex, Bottom Dean Winchester, Caring Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel and Dean Winchester in Love, Castiel/Dean Winchester First Kiss, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cuddling Castiel/Dean Winchester, Cuddling Castiel/Sam Winchester, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Gay Sex, Grumpy Dean Winchester, Heavy Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inktober 2019, Jealous Dean Winchester, Kid Dean Winchester, Kid Sam Winchester, Kinda, Light Angst, M/M, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Marriage Proposal, Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Possessive Dean Winchester, Quickies, Sam Winchester Dies, Sassy Dean Winchester, Smut, This is a terrible idea, Top Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Torture, but im writing it, im pushing myself for a month, im sorry ive been bullying sam, its sad, tags vary from chapter to chapter, thats right, they're not used for date rape, wish me luck because my writer's block is gonna bite me in my juicy ass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-02
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-11-10 19:47:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 6,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20857268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestGuesses/pseuds/bestGuesses
Summary: as expected, i failed.





	1. Day 1: Ring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 years had Castiel held on to that ring box.

Cas looked at the box in his hands, flicking it open and closed. The soft thump of velvet was the only thing keeping him grounded as he sat at the map table. It was about 3 AM, he presumed, and Dean and Sam were sure to be asleep. He took a deep breath, shutting his eyes.

3 years.

3 years Castiel had held onto the ring, waiting for the right opportunity. 3 years of pining, shared gazes and lingering touches. Of green eyes trailing him whenever he was in the same room. Maybe a few close calls when it was late at night and they’d had too many drinks. Almost every free night he had was spent sitting down, small black box in hand, pondering.

It was hell.

The love of Castiel’s life, the man he had fallen for, was mere rooms away. 

And Cas couldn’t do shit about it. 

Well, he  _ could _ , but chances were that Dean would turn him down. Kick him out for good, no redos. Dean had turned down every advance from other men, Cas doubted he’d be an exception. 

Still, there was always an  _ if. _

What  _ if _ he said yes?

What  _ if _ Cas finally got to be with him?

Cas would give anything for that chance, but at the same time, he wouldn’t dare risk losing him forever. So he sat there.

Waiting.

Waiting for the chance to spill his guts. 

To get a yes. 

Cas would wait millennia if it meant even a day with Dean as his. Hell, it felt like he already had. The agonizing hours spent pondering, wishing,  _ dreaming _ . Castiel was meant to be an angel, a  _ warrior _ . Then again, he’d never quite followed the norm.

“Cas?”

Cas jumped, looking over. Dean stood in the hallway, half-asleep with his  _ stupid _ robe on. Cas cursed himself for wanting to pin Dean against the wall, kiss him until their lips were bruised.

“Yes?”

“You.. all good there bud?” 

He gave a passing glance to the ring box, cocking a brow.

“I.. yes, I’m fine,” Cas said, shoving the box into his pocket before forcing himself up. 

Each step felt mechanical, a mental mantra of  _ left forward, push back. Right forward, push back. _

“I’m sorry for leaving the lights on, I’ll head out so you can rest.”

He brushed past Dean, ignoring the warmth in his chest from the fleeting contact.

“Cas \- wait,” Dean grabbed his shoulder, “I.. the box. What’s in it?”

“It’s just some angel… stuff,” Cas said, unable to find a better word.

“In a ring box?” Dean flipped Cas around so they were facing each other. They were close, Cas could feel Dean’s breath on his face.

“We lacked a better container.”

“Cas, we live in a bunker packed with supplies. You could’ve asked for something better,” he chuckled.

“I… I didn’t have time.”

“D’you wanna switch it over, or..?” Dean asked, implications clear in his tone. Is that a ring or not? Cas swallowed thickly.

“It’s a ring,” he mumbled.

“What kind of ring?”

Cas didn’t even look at him.

“Cas, what kind of ring?” his tone changed, a difference that was indescribable. Still, Cas didn't respond, ducking his head.

“Cas… are you going to propose to someone?”

“Maybe,” Cas mumbled.

“I… holy shit! Who?”

Cas shuffled on his heels, shifting his weight as he looked up. Dean had a sort of glint in his eyes, one that was almost  _ hopeful _ . Cas had his chance, he could drop to one knee, just  _ ask _ . 

“Someone,” Cas responded.

“I… do I know them? Cas, I didn’t even know you were dating,” he almost scoffed. He sounded offended, offended that Cas never told him about his mystery lover.

“Cas, we’re best friends. You can tell me anything. I.. why would you keep something like this from me?”

Hurt.

Cas heard hurt in his tone, and it was unbearable. He swallowed his pride, reaching into his pocket and fumbling before finding the box. He met Dean’s eye, taking a deep breath.

“It’s you, Dean.”

Dean visibly froze, his eyes widening.

“Cas, I…”

Cas looked at him for a long moment before laughing. 

Laughing.

Something he hardly remembered doing in his lifetime, and yet there he was. Laughing in the face of Dean Winchester.

“It’s a no. I knew it. I… it’s,” Cas shook his head, running a hand through his hair, “I… I’m sorry. I’ll head out. If.. if you need help with a case,” Cas began to turn around before the hand on his shoulder tightened, pulling him closer.

Dean kissed him.

Cas felt Dean’s lips on his, he was acutely aware that Dean was actually  _ kissing _ him, and it was something that Cas was certain he’d never experience. He pulled Dean closer by the strings of his robe, Dean’s hand grabbing his tie. It was all teeth clacking and years of pent up tension and Cas swore he was drowning. Dean pulled away slowly, tears rolling down his cheeks as he nodded.

“Yes, I…  _ Cas _ , holy hell,” he laughed. Cas broke out into a smile, one that was genuine. One that wasn’t from some other being possessing him, or from hysteria.

He slipped the ring on Dean’s finger.


	2. Day 2: Mindless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mark takes over.

Dean could feel the mark pulsing, the bony blade in his hand digging into the flesh of his palms. His gait was unsteady, more of a shamble than anything as he moved forward. Everything was out of focus, the power through him unbearable. 

“Dean, you don’t have to do this. Drop the blade,” said Sam’s shaky voice. None of the words processed in his mind, he just kept walking. 

“Dean. Please. It’s... I’m your brother. Put it down!”

Dean didn’t stop. He didn’t stop until he was standing right over him, Sam’s legs stretched out as he tried to scramble back. His chest was heaving, silent tears running down his cheeks. His hair stuck to the trails as Dean pointed his blade under his brother’s chin, tilting his head up.

“Sorry, Sammy,” Dean said. He moved his blade swiftly across Sam’s neck, watching his eyes widen as he began to choke, blood dripping down his shirt. Dean wasted no time, burying the blade back in his chest. And back out. He didn’t stop for a long while. Long after life had left Sam’s body. Dean dropped his blade, the burning in his soul dying down. He let out a choked sob, holding Sam’s body close to his chest as he sobbed.

“I… I couldn’t help it.”


	3. Day 2 Bonus Prompt: Jealous!Dean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone's flirting with Cas, and Dean isn't a fan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> prompt from @rocknroller on twitter! they're super cool and i love them so much so feel free to drop a follow uwu  
"And have a cute twink flirt with Cas and make dean jealous"

Dean had been downing drinks the last hour, shooting glares at the 20 something-year-old who just  _ kept _ getting closer to Cas. Hell, Cas was practically flirting back. They were laughing, buying drinks and Dean was attempting to shatter their glasses of whiskey with his sheer will. 

Sadly, that didn’t work.

It was a good attempt, though.

Cas shot Dean the occasional grin, and jesus christ did Dean want to kiss that smug smirk off of his stupid face. Still, he was a good person and didn’t throw any fists. 

Or lips.

Dean needed another drink.

He didn’t stop grumping as he downed shot after shot. He knew enough about his tolerance to stay mostly sober, but he was slowly losing his self-control. The guy had a hand on Cas’ thigh, leaning in as Cas grinned. Dean had been giving them side glances, and when he saw the guy lean in…

“Hey, Cas, can we talk really quick?” Dean asked. The guy glared at him, and Dean gave him an innocent smile.

“I.. yes, of course,” Cas nodded. Dean stood, motioning for Cas to follow him. They stood in the hallway by the bathrooms, and Dean looked around to be sure nobody was watching.

They were alone.

“You bitch,” Dean laughed. Cas grinned, pulling him in for a kiss.

“What, were you jealous?”

“No shit, fucker,” Dean pinned Cas against the wall. Cas rolled his eyes in response as Dean worked on leaving a few marks on his jaw. Cas moved his hands under the belt of Dean’s jeans, digging his fingertips right over his boxers. Dean hummed, leaving a hickey right below Cas’ ear.

“Can’t stand the thought of me fucking anyone else, huh? You’re jealous,” Cas mused, curling a hand in Dean’s hair and forcing him to look Cas in the eyes, “Just can’t stand the thought of anyone else getting my cock.”

Dean swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. Cas lifted him effortlessly, Dean quietly thanking whoever gave Cas that angel strength because  _ holy hell _ was it hot. Cas opened one of the bathroom stalls, snapping his fingers. The place was cleaned up immediately, and Dean found himself pushed against the door, his jeans being roughly pulled down. He had no idea when Cas had undone his belt, but he sure as hell wasn’t complaining.

“Cas- lube-” Dean barely managed to say as Cas forced his pants down. Cas huffed, pressing a finger against his hole. With a little bit of grace, Dean was prepped.

“Fuck,” He keened as Cas peppered gentle kisses over his neck.

“Just wanted to be pounded, huh? Where anyone could come in and hear us? Want everyone to know that you’re mine?”

“Yes, please-” He keened, “C’mon fuck me already-”

“That’s what I thought,” Cas remarked, unzipping his fly and pulling his pants and underwear down just far enough to grab his cock, giving a few soft breaths before pressing against Dean’s rim. Dean swallowed thickly as he pressed in, slowly rocking his hips back against him.

“God, I’m still sore from last night,” Dean chuckled. Cas laughed a bit himself, pushing the rest of the way inside and grabbing Dean’s hips.

“You ready for me to move?”

“Less talking, more fucking. Sound good?”

“Sounds perfect,” Cas huffed, pulling out before slamming back in. He quickly set a brutal pace, leaving Dean biting his lip to stay quiet. He gave the occasional whimper as Cas held him upright, pushing him further against the stall door. When Cas wrapped an arm around him and grabbed his cock, smearing the precum over the head, Dean knew he wouldn’t last long.

“Poor baby needs to be fucked in a bathroom so he doesn’t get too jealous. Isn’t that right?” Cas hummed. Dean nodded, sharply inhaling.

“Yes- fuck, I’m  _ close _ ,” he keened. Cas nodded, flicking his thumb over the slit of Dean’s cock. Dean threw his head back, so  _ close _ to the edge.

“Cum for me,” Cas breathed. Dean was gone, his toes curling as he gave a choked whimper and came. Cas kept fucking him, Dean going pliant in his arms. Cas followed soon after, biting down on Dean’s shoulder to stay quiet. He took a deep breath, holding onto him.

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”


	4. Day 3: Bait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam is the bait for a new case.

Sam silently cursed the beanie Dean had forced on him, adjusting the bulk glasses balanced on the bridge of his nose as Dean gave him a shit eating grin.

“Why do  _ I _ have to go undercover as the hipster?!” Sam groaned.

“You already act the part,” Dean teased, tossing some suspenders at him, “Just gotta make you look it, Sammy. C’mon, all you gotta do is catch the hippire and we can move on.”

“Please stop calling him a hippire.”

“It’s genius! C’mon, hipster, vampire?” Dean waggled his eyebrows, nudging Sam who rolled his eyes in response.

“You’re a moron.”

“That’s not very nice.”

“Neither is sending your brother out to dress as a hipster and let a vampire flirt with him, but here we are.”

“Hippire,” Dean corrected helpfully.

“I will let the vamp tear out your throat if you say that one more time.”

Dean broke out into a grin and Sam dreaded what he was going to come up with next.

“Vampster.”

“I hate you,” Sam groaned as Dean laughed. He finished getting ready before following Dean to the Impala, sitting in as Dean blared his usual Led Zeppelin soundtrack. Sam smiled a bit at how happy Dean seemed, it wasn’t often they had a good day. He grinned a bit when Dean softened as one of the songs began, one Sam knew to be Cas’ favorite.

“You should tell him, Dean.”

“Tell who what?” Dean asked intelligently. Sam rolled his eyes.

“I dunno, who’s that one guy who you’re hopelessly head over heels for. Has wings, a halo, name starts with ‘C’ and ends with ‘astiel’? Saved you from hell, fell for yo -”

“I get the gist, Sam,” Dean said, bright red.

“You sure?”

“Shut up, we’re almost there.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sam huffed. Dean parked the car a block away so nobody would catch on to who they were, and Sam made his way to the cafe. It was like a lounge of sorts, a prime hangout spot for the local hipster community. Sam knew that one of them was the vampire picking the town off one by one. He blended right in, chatting with some random girl seated across from him. Still, there was no sign of anything shady going on. The barista walked by, two overpriced coffees in hand that he set down in front of a couple of people.

“So anyway, that’s why I went vegan,” the girl finished. Sam hadn’t even noticed she was speaking, but he still smiled and nodded.

“Farming is inhumane. You made the right choice,” Sam responded smoothly. She nodded, seemingly pleased with his answer. Sam saw her clearly about to talk once more, abruptly cutting her off.

“I’m going to go get coffee. Thanks for the chat.”

He stood and walked over to the counter, wincing at the prices but still ordering one anyway. The barista came over, shooting him a grin.

“You seem new, what’s your name?” he asked, lightly tapping on the counter with his fingernails.

“Justin,” Sam lied. The guy nodded with a smile.

“David,” he introduced, “How about.. I get your coffee? On me?”

“You don’t have to,” Sam began.

“I insist.”

“I.. sure,” Sam nodded. The guy, David, grinned and bought him his drink, sliding it down to him. They shared some more small talk as Sam sipped his overpriced ice coffee, still keeping an eye out for the vampire.

“How would you like to come over to my place? Shift ends in 10,” David offered. Sam was about to decline when it dawned on him. 

David could be the vampire.

Sam accepted.

He texted Dean to let him know the plan, waiting those long 10 minutes before following David to his car. He got in and drove back to his place, looking around. It looked normal in there, and Sam was already beginning to believe that David might not have been the correct person to follow.

“Would you like a drink?” he asked. Sam shrugged before accepting it, still looking around. David passed him a glass of what he assumed to be some sort of Shirley Temple, and Sam accepted it. He drank quickly, talking to David for a long while. He started to see the area around him spin, clutching his head before everything went black.

When Sam awoke again, he was tied up and bleeding. He couldn’t move, but he could see. David was pacing around, a blade in hand.

“You hunters are  _ so _ damn annoying. Can’t you stick your nose in someone else’s business?”

Sam spit out some blood, “Not when you’re killing people.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard the whole ‘high and mighty’ things more times than you can count. Who the hell even  _ are _ you?” he asked as he examined the angel blade Sam had brought along, “And what is  _ this _ ?”

“I’m a hunter,” Sam coughed, he was pretty sure he’d been stabbed at some point, “I have backup.”

“Yep. I know you’re just the bait.”

“And.. you’re just taking me hostage? No traps, no nothing?”

“I’m not an idiot. I’m not going to tell you what I have set up, rookie mistake.”

“If you say so,” Sam sighed, throwing his head back as he coughed, feeling blood trickle down his side. David walked over, angel blade in hand and tilted his head up with the sharp edge pushing under his chin.

“Who are you?”

  
Sam huffed, “Winchester.”

“ _ Winchester _ ? Didn’t think any of you were still alive. Then again, I am behind on all of the hunting community.”

“We are, and we’re gonna fuckin’ beat your ass.”

“I await that. Until then, Winchester,” he dug the blade into Sam’s neck just enough to draw blood, “You’re stuck with me.”


	5. Day 4: Freeze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The heater in the bunker stops working. Cas stops by and cuddles Dean until he's warm.

“Close the damn door before we freeze to death, Cas!” Dean exclaimed from where he was wrapped in just about every blanket in the bunker. Cas quickly closed it, taking pity on him.

“Your heater isn’t working?”

“No, we’re freezing to death wrapped up because it’s fun.  _ Yes _ , the heater is fucked,” Dean hissed. Cas rolled his eyes.

“You should let some of that pent up anger out. Have you ever invested time into martial arts?” Cas sassed.

“My fuckin’ life is martial arts. What’re you here for?”

“Definitely not your attitude,” Cas huffed, “I hope you realize I can warm you up.”

Dean shut his mouth.

“I was here to check on you and Sam. You don’t seem to be doing great.”

“Sammy’s fine. He got a space heater, he’s holed up in his room. Said that I was being a dick, so he left me out here to freeze.”

“Would you like me to help you warm up?”

“No shit.”

“Watch your mouth or I won’t,” Cas warned. Dean rolled his eyes as Cas slipped his coat off. He got the blankets off of Dean, wrapping the coat around his shoulders before sitting next to him, wrapping the blankets around them.

“I… I was kinda expecting you to use your grace,” Dean mumbled.

“Would you like me to stop?”

“Hell no, you’re warm,” Dean sat a bit closer.

“Then stop bitching.”

Dean stuck his tongue out at Cas, grinning a bit. Cas couldn’t help but smile in return.

“You’re an idiot, Dean,” Cas stated.

“Thank you, Castiel.”

“Always,” he grinned, wrapping his arms around Dean and pulling him into his lap. Dean visibly flushed at that, ducking his head a bit.

“Is this uncomfortable?” Cas asked.

“No!- I mean- you’re fine,” he stammered. Cas nodded, pulling Dean closer. Dean rested his head back on Cas’ shoulder, wrapped in the blanket and Cas’ arms. It wasn’t long before he fell asleep, Cas’ coat on his shoulders and a special warmth that wasn’t from the blankets.


	6. Day 5: Build

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas rebuilt Dean.

Dean took a gasping breath, looking around. He was laying down somewhere dark, but where? He tried to move, finding wood walls confining him.

“What the fuck?”

He banged at the top of the strange box, or what he assumed to be the top. After a few hard hits, it budged enough for him to push with all of his strength, clawing his way and being met with dirt. 

With a loud curse, he dug.

He shoveled dirt into the box that he had slowly become sure was a coffin, digging for what felt like ages. He was more surprised he hadn’t died, continuing to dig until his hand broke through the surface. From there, Dean crawled out and brushed himself off, a searing pain starting to make itself apparent when his shoulder was exposed to the sun. 

Dean looked around to assess the situation. To his right was a small cabin that he assumed to be his best bet for safety. He made sure there was nobody watching before treading over, opening the creaky wooden door and stepping inside. It was almost as if something in his mind opened along with that damned door, memories of being torn apart surfacing.

He rushed to the mirror.

He tugged at the fabric of his black t shirt, pulling it up and looking at himself. His skin was completely unharmed, much to his surprise. He was beginning to suspect it was all a fever dream until he pulled his sleeve up.

A handprint.

There was a handprint burnt into Dean’s shoulder.

Dean remembered hell.

He’d been tortured, hung by hooks and torn apart repeatedly. 

30 years.

30 years of torture until he saw a bright light, and…

And wings.

He shook it off, looking around frantically. He found some old change, looking around and catching a payphone at the side of the building.

He called Sam.

**

Dean had been searching for  _ so _ damn long. Every night, he’d look at the print on his shoulder and wonder what was going on. After Dean had explained everything he’d remembered to Sam, Sam was completely on board with finding out about the source of the print. Hell, even Bobby joined in on the hunt. It wasn’t long before Dean was laying in bed, trying to relax when Sam barged in.

“So get this,” Sam began, “There’s this psychic. Pamela Barnes. Bobby’s friend, apparently she’s the ‘best damn psychic in the state.’ Worth a shot?”

Dean forced himself onto his feet.

“Hell yeah.”

The drive there was relatively silent other than Dean’s usual choice of classic rock. Bobby sat shotgun, forcing Sam into the back. Sam wasn’t thrilled, but Dean didn’t really give a shit as long as they were on the road. 

They all arrived shortly after, the woman he assumed to be Pamela swiftly setting up. After a lot of flirting (on her part), they were all situated. They sat at a table, candles placed neatly in the middle.

“See anything yet, Matilda?”

“Matilda was telekinetic, Dean,” Sam huffed.

“Same difference.”

“Shut the hell up, idjits,” Bobby interjected.

Pamela grinned a bit, “Well, I need to touch something he touched,” she trailed her hand down to Dean’s thigh.

“Woah! He didn’t touch me there,” Dean stated. Pamela grinned as he shrugged his coat off, rolling his sleeve up to reveal the burn. Sam’s eyes widened a bit as he looked on in awe, glancing at Bobby. He hadn’t shown them the burn for a reason, and kept his mouth shut as they watched. 

She instructed them all to hold hands, Dean reluctantly complying as she shut her eyes with a few deep breaths.

“I invoke, conjure, and command you appear unto me before this circle,” she said, her voice low. Dean shut his eyes as she repeated the incantation, gradually increasing in volume. He peeked an eye open to see what was going on, but was really only greeted with Pamela speaking and no strange holy sights. Everyone around him had their eyes closed, but Dean was so damn ready to find out who saved him.

A TV flicked on.

A high pitch ringing sounded through the room, Pamela’s hands shaking as she cut herself off.

“Castiel?” Dean’s glance shot over to her.

_ Castiel? _

“No, sorry Castiel, I don’t scare easy,” Pamela stated.

“Castiel?” Dean finally spoke up.

“Its name, it’s whispering at me, warning me to turn back,” she quickly said before returning to her incantations. Dean looked around, Sam and Bobby having kept their eyes closed. Dean squeezed his eyes shut as the room began to shake. 

“I think we should stop -” Bobby began.

“I almost got it!” Pamela nodded, her eyes still shut. Dean opened his eyes once more, finding Sam and Bobby also looking around, almost fearfully.

“I command you show me your face!” Pamela nearly shouted.

“Show me your face now!” She exclaimed. The fire of the candles, what were once almost wispy little things grew into pillars of flame. Pamela screamed in agony as her eyes burnt out. The flames died down as she collapsed.

  
“Call 911!” Sam exclaimed as they all jumped into action.

Castiel.

**

It had taken Dean ages. He had a name, and he knew whatever that  _ Castiel _ thing wasn’t something that was messing around. Bobby had found a spell, and Dean set up every sigil he knew, and then some. With weapons prepared, they stood in the abandoned barn, finally using the spell. At first, nothing happened.

“You sure you did the ritual right?” Dean asked. Bobby gave him a look.

“Sorry,” he sighed, spinning the demon knife he’d gotten from Ruby on its blade, “Touchy touchy, huh?”

Then there was lightning.

Dean and Bobby both stood, the weakened panels of the roof slammed on their frames and revealed the almost glowing night sky.

“Wishful thinkin’, but maybe it’s just the wind,” Dean looked around, knife in hand. He was quickly made aware that it was  _ not _ wishful thinking when the lights exploded one by one. The doors opened, and between the flickering lighting, Dean saw something.

Some _ one _ .

A man walked in, clad in a trench coat. He stepped forward, through the shower of sparks raining from the ruined lights. He walked past the sigils, looking at them but clearly not affected. Dean and Bobby aimed their guns, firing.

Nothing.

The man didn’t even blink! He kept walking through the shots, Dean and Bobby sharing a surprised glance before trying to find another weapon. The man rounded Dean as he grabbed the knife, not breaking eye contact. 

“Who are you?”

“The one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition,” the man responded.

“Yeah. Thanks for that,” Dean said, breathing heavily. He had no idea what the hell he was dealing with, but figured that a good full force stab to the chest would make a dent. Right?

Wrong.

The man tilted his head up slightly as Dean stepped back. He could’ve sworn the man was smiling a bit as he looked at the knife and back up at Dean. He pulled it right out of his chest and dropped it. Dean shot a glance to Bobby who tried to hit him with the crowbar. Bobby didn’t even get close before the man caught the blow, turning to him and pressing two fingers to his forehead. Bobby collapsed.

Dean watched in fear at his uncle’s possibly dead body, glancing back up to meet the man’s gaze once more. 

Holy  _ shit _ were his eyes blue.

Dean quickly remembered that he might’ve killed Bobby, redirecting his train of thought. 

“We need to talk, Dean,” the man looked at Bobby and then back at Dean, “Alone.”

**

Dean had quickly figured out that Bobby wasn’t dead (thank god), and that the strange man was Castiel.

An angel.

Over the few weeks he’d known Cas, Dean was wary. He never spent much time with him, and Dean was okay with that. 

Castiel was a bit of a dick.

Dean wasn’t exactly a fan of him, but he had to admit, the guy had a few soft spots. Dean quickly realized that he was one of those soft spots.

Those weeks he’d known Cas morphed into months, months into years. Years into a decade. Sure, they’d fucked each other up big time, but they’d been through hell together. Castiel quickly became Dean’s best friend besides Sam. Dean always swore that their bond was ‘brotherly’, but he knew damn well that Sam and Cas were on two completely different spectrums. 

He didn’t have a whopping crush on Sam, for starters.

He also didn’t  _ want _ to do anything like that with Sam.

Cas, however, was different. Dean wanted Cas by his side, but in a way he knew he’d never get. Sure, he’d gotten his hopes up numerous times. Long stares, lingering smiles and soft touches, Dean  _ knew _ they were edging the line of something romantic. 

He just didn’t think Cas knew.

He’d read the story, seen the movie, watched the show. He’d seen the story. They were something straight out of a Hallmark movie.

Well, not that cheesy, but Dean didn’t think there was much of a better example. However, Cas didn’t have that concept of what was cool to do with friends or cool to do with a lover. Dean just took what he got.

“Cas, can you pass me a beer?” Dean called from the couch. Cas nodded, grabbing one for himself and another for Dean. He plopped down next to him, cracking a bottle open before passing it to him.

“Thanks,” Dean nodded with a toothy grin, taking a drink. Cas mimicked his actions, looking at the screen.

“Dr. Sexy?” Cas asked.

“Hell yeah,” Dean nodded, “Wanna watch?” Cas nodded, settling in a bit more. Dean chuckled a bit at how Cas was  _ still _ in his holy tax accountant attire, vaguely considering getting him a t shirt or a hoodie of some sort. 

“How the hell are you comfortable in that?” Dean finally voiced his thoughts.

“It’s all I own. I’ve grown used to it.”

“Fuckit,” Dean said, standing up. Cas shot him a confused glance, but he motioned for him to wait before returning with one of his softest shirts and a pair of sweatpants, “Try this.”

Cas nodded, standing up and retreating to the bathroom. He returned shortly after in Dean’s clothes, “Is this fine?”

“Cas, I’m not gonna police how you wear clothes. Are you comfy?”

“Yes.”

“Then sit back down,” Dean grinned. Cas plopped back down next to him, drinking more of his beer before going to watch more Dr. Sexy with Dean. They watched for a long while, Dean inching closer. Cas looked happy, and Dean smiled softly. His mind was screaming at him to just drop some hints and see how Cas reacted. Then again, his mind was almost always screaming at him to do that.

The only difference was that he actually did.

He moved until he was leaning against Cas, resting a hand on his knee. Cas gave a content sigh, wrapping an arm around Dean. Dean mentally counted it as a good sign, moving almost closer to Cas.

“Dean?” Cas eventually asked.

“Yeah?”

“What are you doing?”

Dean swallowed thickly, “I’m… I’m shooting my shot,” he decided after a moment of consideration.

“Are you implying that you’re attracted to me?”

“Yeah, I am.”

Cas smiled, “Good,” he said before cupping Dean’s jaw with a gentle hand, kissing him. Dean clutched onto him as he kissed Cas back, opening his mouth. Cas seemed a bit confused until Dean pushed his tongue into Cas’ mouth, crawling into his lap. Cas pulled him closer, moving a hand down Dean’s pants but above his underwear, grabbing his ass. With expert precision, he moved to leave a mark right under Dean’s jaw, eliciting a gasp.

“Holy shit-” Dean breathed. Cas grinned.

“I rebuilt you, Dean. Atom by atom. I happen to know exactly what you like,” Cas hummed against his throat. Dean shivered.

“I look forward to testing that knowledge, then.”


	7. Day 6: Husky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Never had the word 'perdition' sounded sexier.

Dean knew from the second he heard that voice he was a goner. Never had the word “perdition” been sexier coming from someone’s mouth. If Dean hadn’t been so sure Bobby was dead, he probably would have dropped to his knees. 

But that was years back.

Dean wasn’t some 30-year old with that kind of sex drive anymore.

Dean loved Castiel, he knew that much. Sure, it started out sexual. Numerous wet dreams, fantasies as he shoved his hands down his pants, soiled boxers, but it grew. Hell, Dean could pinpoint the exact moment it happened.

“We’re making it up as we go.”

Sure the ‘more profound bond’ statement was something that left a dent in his purely sexual attraction (in a good way), but that was the turning point. Dean was falling over the edge at that point with no damn parachute.

It felt good to free fall.

The whole hiding his whopping gay crush thing wasn’t exactly great, but actually letting himself love someone? That was a relief.

He was thankful for the owner of that husky voice who saved him.


	8. Day 7: Enchantment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Castiel repowers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the ritual used here is actually an angelic protection spell of sorts that was really quickly translated into latin! i do not know any spells or anything by heart, so i had to have google come to the rescue here. enjoy!

Delicate designs danced their way around Castiel’s body, weaving and intertwining with each other. Carved sigils and enochian phrases covered his skin, dripping red as he kneeled. The language was ancient, one known solely to other angels. The ring of holy fire surrounding him blazed up, warming his already sliced flesh.

“Arcus Angelus Michael et angeli et adiutores maxime convenientem,” he began, the cuts covering his body began to glow blue. The ornate sigils glowed, bringing a holy warmth to his body. Intricate words flew through his mind, the ritual properly beginning.

“Vos autem peto ut me cingite Alba lux ex sphaera vitae meae, a summo capite usque ad pedis mei tips,” the grace in his body reacted to the words, spreading through him. The power raced through every inch of his being, a glow emanating from him. His wings took form in grand shadows, stretching and spreading as his eyes glowed a dim blue.

“Imple sphaera, quae est lux Alba suumque patrocinium impertiri amor, Harmonia, et medelam,” his hair stood on edge, goosebumps rising on tan flesh. Blood began to pool around him, the holy flames blazing into blue columns of fire. The room was hot, nearly unbearably so, but Castiel’s grace held it in the room. Held him away from harm, or any possible civilians in the vicinity.

“Sphaera quae ab Alba lux ut a quacumque negans principiorum,” the cuts on his fingers and toes began to heal, sealing up with only thin scars left behind. His glow only grew as he threw his head back, spreading his arms.

“Expand enim sphaera illius albi Luminis radii, qui est locus apud me, in omni tempore,” time slowly faded away for him, the incantations being the only things Castiel could focus on. The words flowed from his mouth easily, sung like a praise of healing. Of retribution.

Of safety.

“Haec lux potest lucere absque omni condicione Alba Amor et sanationis, quia omni circa me,” Castiel’s wings spread to their full span, flickering in and out of the human realm. The astral plane welcomed him with open arms, surrounding him with healing grace as his wounds closed.

“Sit oportet omnium rerum ab auxilio tuo, ut hodie mecum eris in OMNIA QUAE. Et omnem posteritatem propagarent!”

The glow reached a crescendo, the light blinding as his wounds closed at once. Power flowed through his body until it all came to a screeching halt. All that was left was a puddle of blood, a shadow of his wings singed into the wall, and Castiel.

Castiel at full power.


	9. Day 8: Frail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam needs rest. Cas takes care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THATS RIGHT I WROTE SAMCAS

Sam hadn’t slept in weeks. He couldn’t. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw their bodies on the floor. The lives he hadn’t saved.

He needed a drink.

Well, he didn’t have time for a drink. Every second he spent not looking at cases, not hunting, lives were lost. Sam  _ had _ to save them. He couldn’t rest. Sam had no idea when the last time he got more than two, three hours was. Hell, he didn’t know when he last ate. He knew Cas and Dean were getting concerned, but they were so deep in their own shit that he never had the heart to ask for any help. 

It was another long day of searching for cases. Sam was perched on one of the library chairs as he scrolled on his computer. His head hurt from staring at the screen for so long, but he had no leads. He felt like he was losing his mind, jumping when he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You need to rest, Sam,” Cas stated, his tone soft.

“I’m  _ so _ close to another lead-” Sam lied.

“Please. You won’t be able to hunt in this state. You’re hurting yourself,” Cas pleaded.

“Just.. just one more case. I’ll sleep then.”

“You’ve been saying that for the past week. Just... one day. 24 hours to take care of yourself. Guilt-free.”

“Cas-”

“One day, Sam,” he urged gently.

Sam sighed, standing up as Cas gave him a reassuring smile. Cas led him to the kitchen, a hand on his back to keep him steady. He sat him down, going to make Sam a bowl of soup. Cas had never been a great cook— he left that to Sam and Dean— but he was determined to help Sam. The soup may have been lukewarm, but Sam appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

“Let’s go lay down, okay?” Cas suggested when Sam was finished and his bowl was cleaned and left to dry. Sam nodded wearily as Cas helped him up, wrapping a comforting arm around him as they headed back to his room. Cas helped him change into pajamas, laying him down and tucking him in.

“Cas?” Sam asked meekly.

“Yes, Sam?”

  
  
“Could you lay with me? I- I just don’t like dealing with the nightmares alone,” he attempted to justify. Cas gave him a soft look, then nodded, slipping his coats and shoes off before laying beside him, crawling under the blankets. He wrapped an arm around Sam’s waist, pulling him close as he brushed some of his hair out of his face.

“What are the nightmares about?” Cas’ breath ghosted over Sam’s face, comforting the tension knotted in his stomach.

“I… the hunters. Everyone who died. I- I see their faces when I’m trying to sleep. I know I could’ve saved them, Cas. People died because of me.”

Cas cupped his jaw, forcing Sam to look him in the eyes.

“It’s not your fault. You did the best you could. You did nothing wrong, Sam,” he said. Sam still took an uneasy breath as Cas leaned in, pressing a kiss against his forehead.

“Get some rest, okay?”

“Yeah, okay,” Sam said quietly. Cas held him close, and never had he felt so frail. Cas didn’t mind, he was determined to keep Sam safe. To make sure he felt okay. Sam drifted off properly for the first time in weeks.

He was safe in Cas’ arms.


	10. Day 9: Swing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sam and Dean have some fun at the park.

“C’mon, push me!” Sam called with a smile from where he was seated on the swing. Dean rolled his eyes playfully as he walked over.

“Fine. But only ‘cuz it’s your birthday,” Dean said as he pushed him forward. Sam giggled as he kicked his legs out, Dean pushing him every time.

“Swing with me! Let’s see who can go higher!”

“Sam, I’m too old for that,” Dean huffed.

“You’re 12, come swing!”

Dean chuckled, getting on the swing next to his brother. He pushed himself into the air, going back and forth, quickly beating Sam in height. Sam pouted for a moment before going back to laughing himself. Dean looked at how happy his brother was, how he finally god the chance to be a kid, even if it was only for a few hours until John came back from the bar.

The ache in his ribs from the bruises was less significant. The gnawing of his stomach from not knowing when his last meal was diminished.

He vowed to never let Sam be hurt.


	11. Day 10: Pattern

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hesitance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im sorrry this is so short i have a terrible headache aaaaa

Every day, Sam noticed a few things. How Cas never seemed to be as ready to fight as usual. His hesitance as he fought alongside of Sam and Dean. Sam knew they were drifting apart.

“Cas,” Sam called. Cas looked back, Sam saw that hesitance again.

“Yes?”

Sam paused. He wasn’t sure of what the hell he was going for, but Cas was  _ right _ there. He took a deep breath.

“Take a break. Go.. go out, see some other angels. Just.. please. Take a break from this. You’re hurting, Cas.”

Cas swallowed thickly, nodding slowly. Hesitantly.

Sam walked forward, pulling him close, “I’ll be here. Waiting,” Sam said softly. Cas nodded as Sam pulled away. He took a deep breath, and Sam wasn’t sure who started the kiss. It didn’t last long.

Then Cas was gone.


End file.
